Shattered
by Hurricane Amy
Summary: Forced out of the closet, Santana tries to repair her shattered life. Based on Mash-Off, what happened from the time they were in the office until the end of the next day.  May add more later.  Rated T for language.
1. The Beginning of the End

**A/N:** So after Tuesday's episode, Mash-Off, I just had a lot of feelings. And I wanted to express them in story-form. This is what I imagine Santana was feeling and thinking in the last few minutes, plus I added in some extra stuff - like what happened between her seeing the tape and the Rumor Has It/Someone Like You performance. I may add some more later, but I'm not sure. For now, this is a one-shot.

-o-o-o-

Santana Mother-Fucking Lopez. No one could hurt her. Especially not Finn Fish-Face Hudson. Right?

Except he knew something about her. Something she never wanted to tell. Something she was too afraid to tell. Something she had wished would go away since she first experienced it at age eight.

It was the reason she put up those walls. It was the reason that she refused to let anyone close to her. It was the reason she was a bitch. It was the reason she was so ashamed of herself that she could barely keep a single meal down.

She's gay.

And the fucking manatee knew it.

Worse than that, he told.

Everyone was going to know. Everyone was going to have their stupid suspicions confirmed. They would know she's a freak.

She sensed while the video played - while her life was torn away from her - that Burt, Sue and Will were staring at her. The office suddenly seemed to make her very claustrophobic. She couldn't stand their looks of pity; feigning sympathy, as if they could ever understand how horrible she felt.

"I can't believe this is happening!" Santana sobbed. "I haven't even told my parents yet!"

She took off down the hallways which had once awarded her strength, her body taking over while her mind tried to make some sense out of everything. None of this felt real.

It's not like she wanted to be closeted forever. Santana knew that no matter how much she wished her secret would go away - how much she wished she was straight - some day she would have to come out. Although the closet she had metaphorically stuck herself in was a pretty damn fabulous walk-in, brimming with style and oozing sex appeal, it was lined with sharp spikes and poisonous creatures, ready to strike down anyone who tried to get in - or out. The closet was a lonely place, and she didn't fool herself into thinking any differently. She wanted out - but not yet. She just wasn't ready. She couldn't take the whispers, the looks, the comments, the rejection. She wasn't prepared.

Fucking Finnocence. The stupid ape masquerading as McKinley High's golden boy had ruined her life in a matter of seconds, and although she wished it would blow over, she knew it wouldn't, and any glimmer of hope had been squelched when she saw the ad that was about to make its way onto television sets everywhere.

Great. Just. Fucking. Great. Every damn person in this god-forsaken place was going to know she was a freak, and there was nothing she could do about it. The one time she truly needed her power, she didn't have it. It had abandoned her when her "straight" disguise had been ripped from her skin so brutally in the hallways she once owned.

_Hey Santana, why don't you just come out of the closet?_

She shivered, remembering how the words had pierced through her soul. She had never felt such intense fear running through her veins as she did in that moment.

Maybe she was a coward, like Finn said, for projecting her feelings onto everyone else, but she couldn't help it. Santana hated herself for being gay, and she hated herself even more for pushing everyone away; for hurting everyone. She knew she'd been particularly harsh lately, but this? Did she really deserve this? Her whole life was crumbling before her and her heart felt as if it was exploding into a million pieces. She didn't know where to go or what to do. Everything changed and she couldn't even bring herself to pretend that she knew what to do.

She kept running until she found the quiet auditorium. Somehow, she managed comfort in the dark space, sinking into a chair in the far corner, away from the door so no one could see her. There she sobbed in silence, curled up in a ball, mentally beating herself up for making such a mess out of her life. She could scarcely breathe and her head was throbbing, until finally she passed out.

Brittany was the one who found her. Gently, she placed her hand on the Latina's shoulder, cooing, "San? San, wake up."

Reluctantly, brown eyes fluttered open, meeting with blue, and for a moment, she felt okay. Then she remembered. Her eyes burned with the threat of more tears.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked. She wasn't used to seeing her girlfriend like this. In all their years of friendship, only a handful of times had she seen her so vulnerable.

Santana wracked her brain for a proper explanation, but all that managed to squeak its way out of her mouth was, "Some chick...overheard...and everyone's gonna know..."

"Know what?" The blond was pretty sure she knew, since the topic had always been touchy, but she didn't want it to be true. She hated the idea that being who she was could cause Santana this much pain.

"That I'm...that I'm gay," the brunette whispered in response. She took in a deep breath. "One of the candidates is using me to prove that Sue doesn't have any family values because she has a lesbian as head cheerleader. They're using me to ruin Sue's campaign, which means that tomorrow night, every fucking person with a TV is going to know, and it'll probably be on fucking YouTube, too, which means every fucking person in the world will probably know."

Brittany was going to reply that Santana should be proud of who she is, but as she opened her mouth, she heard a soft murmur.

"I'm scared."

She wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, who fell into the embrace. Tears dripped down Santana's stoic features, giving her away. All Brittany could think to say was, "No matter what, I'll always love you, Santana. You're awesome, and people will finally know that."

Silence struck for awhile, until Santana sighed, "My parents are going to hate me."

Tightening her hold, Brittany struggled for something comforting to say, but she had never imagined Santana could be broken like this, and she had never been good at putting puzzles back together.

Before any more words could be exchanged, the couple found themselves joined by Mercedes, who couldn't see the fragile state of her friends from her place across the room.

"What are you guys doing?" she exclaimed. "Mash-off is in twenty minutes and you're still in your cheer uniforms!"

Santana, who knew she should be on high-alert, but felt like her body was moving at a snail's pace, tried to fire back an insult, but all she could come up with was, "Calm your tits. We'll be ready when we're ready."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, walking closer. She began to see the tear stains on both her friends' faces and halted. "What happened to you two?"

"None of your business." Santana latched onto Brittany's hand and pulled her out of the room, muttering, "People in this fucking school need to mind their own fucking business."

Mercedes stared at them, perplexed. She had no idea Santana was capable of tears, unless alcohol was involved. "Be ready!" she called after them. It was all she could think of to add.

"Yeah, yeah," was the only response she got as the cheerleaders left.

Santana and Brittany found their way to the girl's locker room, where they had stashed their outfits. Brittany was lucky, she only had to fix her hair and dab on a touch of concealer before she was ready. Santana hadn't been so lucky. Her face was bright red - a dead giveaway that something was seriously wrong. Tears had dried to her cheeks, leaving marks. Even her supposedly waterproof eye makeup was running. She quickly scrubbed her face clean, pulling out her makeup bag and beginning the somewhat calming ritual of applying stage-worthy makeup.

Although she didn't need it, Brittany dabbed on more eyeshadow and mascara. Her hair took only moments, but she stalled in front of the mirror, wanting to stay by her best friend - her girlfriend. She knew better than to say anything and disrupt the calm. It would help nothing if the Latina were to start sobbing again.

Santana took in a breath, realizing how strange it felt that the world hadn't stopped when she saw the ad. It sure felt like it did. What felt like days spent in that auditorium was really only a couple hours, and she was certain time was moving even slower than her. It was like being on a really bad high; one that makes you paranoid and afraid.

It didn't take long for Santana to make herself not only presentable, but beautiful. She had been applying makeup for so long, it was second nature for her. She had it down to a science.

She moved quickly to release her tight high ponytail into a soft low side pony, pleased that it worked for her on the first try. She changed into her dress with three minutes to spare and they made their way back to the auditorium.

Mercedes' head snapped toward them as they walked in. She wanted to chastise them for cutting it so close, but instead she looked to Santana and asked, "Are you okay to do this?"

"I'm fine."

The absence of insult or even feigned certainty worried Mercedes greatly. Santana was obviously not fine. But they were shuffled onto the stage before she could determine what to say next.

Santana fell easily into the motions of the dance they had prepared, but written across her face were the telltale signs of the wrenching pain in her gut and chest. Her face contorted with emotions previously unfamiliar with expression.

She heard herself belting out, "_Don't forget me, I beg..._"

How true those words were. Her biggest insecurities held within a single line. Don't forget me. She hated the idea of being forgotten, being lost, being nobody. She couldn't handle the notion that perhaps this revelation would cause her to be forgotten; she would become nothing more than a label and the Santana everyone knew would be forever lost under its weight.

She sang the song for the residents of her state, for the teachers and students at McKinley, for her reputation...then she sang it for her parents, who reactions she had feared ever since admitting to herself her true feelings. They were strict and highly religious. She could practically hear them screaming at her in Spanish that she was an abomination, that she was going to rot in hell for what she was doing.

As she turned, brown eyed connected with blue, and she realized she was no longer singing for anyone but Brittany.

Her biggest fear was not being good enough. She starved herself; she got a boob job because she didn't feel good enough on the inside and so she did her best to compensate with her exterior. She put on a brave, strong face because no one was ever allowed to see the cowering little girl beneath. She was a bitch because if she pushed everyone away, no one could ever reject her. If she hid her true self with these venomous walls, she was safe.

Brittany was the only one who had ever broken through, and that absolutely terrified her. She was loved for who she was and she was adored for things she hated. Every piece of her that she had deemed unacceptable was not only accepted, but cherished and loved by a beautiful girl with a beautiful soul. And she didn't deserve it. What she deserved was a life of misery and loneliness, and it crippled her to imagine living that way, without her best friend, her first and only love.

She wasn't good enough. She felt like she was always on-edge, waiting to be discovered and abandoned. Brittany wasn't always the smartest girl, but she knew a lot of things others didn't because she allowed herself to see them. Santana couldn't fathom why she would waste her time with such a royal fuck-up. She'd been rejected before, and she could only wait until her only lifeline realized her mistake and rejected her again. Finn had been maddeningly right about that.

"_Don't forget me, I beg!_" she sang those words again, inwardly pleading with Brittany to remember how much they had managed to love each other, even when she inevitably left.

"_I remember you said_," she belted, noticing the beast moving to speak to his girlfriend from the corner of her eye. Mercedes sang her line, but that barely noticed, and as Santana moved to the front of the stage, she kept her eyes on Finn and Rachel. "_Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead..._"

She barely had time to breathe before her feet landed on the ground beside the stage.

"What did you just say to her?" she screamed.

Finn looked at her, puzzled, as usual, and replied, "I said I thought you were great."

"No, you're lying." She was being irrational and paranoid, but she couldn't stop herself.

"No, he literally just said that," Rachel jumped in, unsure what the sudden conflict was about. This seemed different from their usual confrontations. More personal.

"Did you tell her too?" Santana accused, her voice cracking so slightly that only Brittany noticed.

"Santana-" Will attempted to interject.

"Everyone's gonna know now, because of you!" Santana cried.

"The whole school already knows, and you know what? They don't care," Finn tried, but the last sentiment was lost beneath Santana's outburst.

"Not just the school, you idiot! Everyone!"

"What are you talking-"

Finn's voice was halted by the rough sound of skin on skin; a small hand connecting with the ogre's face. Santana stared him down in silent rage. She could feel everyone gaping at them and she debated hitting him again, but she stopped herself when she heard Brittany's soft voice in her head.

"_Stop the violence_," the simple song rang through her skull, pleading with her to be the girl worthy of affection. She would have laughed if she wasn't so terrified. Although Brittany hadn't spoken, she could sense the sadness in her features.

Santana pulled back, still focused on Finnocence, glaring at him with the hate she usually reserved for herself. She found her way to her girlfriend and took her hand. The warmth of the fingers intertwining with her own drew her attention away long enough for her to silently plead with Brittany to leave with her. Too worried about the brunette to look back at her friends, the blond followed without a word.

The glee club was left still reeling in the silence of the auditorium, no one brave enough or stupid enough to chase after the girls.

As they disappeared into the hallways, Santana tried to regulate her breathing. The only sentence she could form was, "I'm sorry," to which she received only a nod and a squeeze of her hand, signaling that even if Brittany didn't like it, she understood, and she didn't hate her.

_Yet_, Santana sighed.

-o-o-o-

**Reviews are love!**


	2. A Forced Hand

**A/N:** Santana comes out to her parents! Since I had a lot of feedback from people telling me to write more, I did. This one has some Spanish in it, but since I only ever took one Spanish course about 6 years ago, I had to rely on Google Translate. Thus, I put my original wording in brackets afterward so you get what I was trying to say. I might write a bit more after; maybe some interaction with other characters and more Brittana. Let me know if you want me to continue or not! Hope you like it...

-o-o-o-

When Santana got home that night, her parents were waiting for her. She had texted them earlier saying she had something important to talk about. She had no choice but to tell them. She knew it would be worse if they saw it on TV or heard from some gossip around town. Her hand was forced and she was pretty sure it was slowly killing her.

For awhile, Santana had considered asking Brittany to do this with her, but her first instinct was to protect the girl and she wasn't sure this was going to go well. She didn't want Britt stuck in the middle of her parents yelling, or worse, hitting her.

She looked at their worried expressions. It was obvious they were entirely on-edge.

"Mami, Papi," she greeted them, trying to will any sort of courage to the surface.

It wasn't until she turned to take a seat across from them that she noticed her abuela was present. She almost lost her breath, suddenly feeling lightheaded and incredibly nauseous. She wasn't ready for this.

In her gut, she felt such an intense manifestation of panic that she was sure it would swallow her up, literally consuming her like a black hole tearing up space. The cold, empty, sick feeling extended up through her chest and throat, and she felt herself trembling.

Santana sat down, wiping her sweaty palms on the dress she had not yet changed out of from her earlier performance.

They sat in silence, waiting for the young girl to speak. She couldn't seem to formulate words and the hole in her stomach told her this might be the last time they ever loved her.

What was only a matter of seconds dragged on as if it were hours, thoughts and fears coursing through her mind so rampantly she couldn't keep up.

She studied her parents' faces, as if she was making sure to commit them to memory, and took another deep breath.

"So, I have something to tell you..." she said as loudly as she could manage, which wasn't very loudly at all. "Please don't hate me."

"Te dije que ella está embarazada _(I told you she was pregnant)_," her abuela remarked, glaring accusingly at her parents.

"No, no," she said quickly. "I'm not pregnant! I'm..." she swallowed. Pregnant sounded a lot better to her right now, even if she had no desire to be another Quinn, nor to raise a tiny screeching baby any time in the near future. "I'm," she choked, "gay."

Silence returned. She tried to gauge the reactions of her parents but their expressions were too hard to discern. She couldn't tell if they were more shocked, angry, or disappointed. She had always hoped deep down maybe they knew, but it was evident now that they hadn't even entertained it as a possibility.

Sure that this was not a good sign, Santana began making a mental list of things she would need to move into the Pierce's guest bedroom. Brittany had offered it to her before dropping she had dropped her off and she knew B's parents had always considered her a member of the family. She hoped that would continue even after they found out she was dating their daughter. She worked not to think about her own parents' reactions, because if she did, she would cry, and she knew better than to do that.

Clothing. She would need that, of course. She kept some extra shirts and jeans at Brittany's house already, but not enough. Plus, she would need pajamas, since no matter how much they liked her, no one wanted a houseguest sleeping naked. Especially not with Britt's little sister, Joyce, around. Her makeup was already in her backpack from her performance earlier, so that was taken care of. Her stereo system and flat screen TV were boss, but there was no way she could take them. Those and most other pieces of her room would have to be left behind. The only other things she could come up with were her journal (which was mostly filled with songs), her favorite books, and the rainbow stuffed unicorn Brittany had won for her at a carnival when they were twelve. She almost smiled remembering that, but the enormity of her current situation still weighted too heavily upon her.

Just as she was struggling to remember where they kept the suitcases - since her mami kept changing her mind about their proper storage - her fathers voice broke the silence.

"Santana, esto no es gracioso. _(Santana, this is not funny.)_"

Dumbfounded, Santana replied, "It's not a joke."

"¡Esto no puede estar pasando! _(This cannot be happening!)_" her mother wailed.

The desperation in her voice was almost enough to crack Santana's already wavering confidence. She doubted it was possible to have a worse day than this.

Santana watched as her parents turned to each other.

"¿Sabes lo que esto significa? _(Do you know what this means?)_" her mami exclaimed. "Ella va al infierno. ¿Qué hicimos mal? _(She's going to Hell. What did we do wrong?)_"

The young girl winced as her father glared over at her with anger clearly burning in his deep brown eyes. "¡Usted no es gay! ¡No hija mía alguna vez ser lesbiana! _(You are not gay! No daughter of mine will be a lesbian!)_"

"Daddy, please," she begged him. "Que es lo que soy. I no se puede cambiar. ¡Por favor entiendan! _(This is who I am. I cannot change. Please understand!)_ If I could change, I would," she cried. "I'm sorry."

"Puede cambiar y usted, o usted ya no es una parte de esta familia! Eres una desgracia. Nunca me imaginé que podría traicionarnos así._ (You can change and you will, or you are no longer part of this family. You are a disgrace. I never thought you could betray us like this.)_" he exclaimed. "Nosotros no criar a nuestros hijos a ir al infierno. ¡Usted está enfermo! ¡Usted está enfermo y que son un asco y hay que cambiar y arrepentirse! ¡Ahora! ¡Te ordeno! _(We did not raise our child to go to Hell. You are sick. You are sick and disgusting and need to change and repent. Now! I order you!)_"

"Papi, I wish I could change, but I can't," she repeated, blinking back her tears. "I'm gay. Eso es lo que soy. _(That's just who I am.)_"

"¡Ni siquiera se reconoce más! _(I don't even recognize you anymore.)_ You are not my daughter anymore!" he spat.

Unable to hold them back any longer, tears burned her eyes, able to be denied. "¿Mami?" she pleaded, but her mom simply shook her head, unable to make eye contact with her daughter.

Her father crossed the room, moving toward her. He towered over her, his arm moving back, and she flinched, preparing herself for the hit.

"¡Maria! ¡Carlos! Cálmate. _(Maria! Carlos! Calm.)_" Her abuela's angry voice cut through the tension, interrupting the impending hit. All eyes turned toward her.

Santana's gaped at her grandmother. The white-haired woman was looking at them as if they were the ones in trouble, instead of Santana. What was going on here?

"¡Basta ya! ¿Ve usted lo asustada que está? Esto se debe a usted. Ella es mi nieta y yo criamos a ser fuerte. No le diga que ella sea algo diferente. Que le gusta no importa, porque la vida es demasiado corta para ser infeliz. ¿Es eso lo que quiere para su hija? Miseria? He perdido mi amor, y no robarle a mi nieta de su oportunidad de amar. ¿Usted quisiera que ella fuera tan miserable como yo? Ella no está tratando de hacerte daño. Usted debería avergonzarse de sí mismos. _(Enough! Do you see how scared she is? This is because of you. She is my granddaughter and I raised her to be strong. You will not tell her to be anything different. Who she loves does not matter, because life is too short to be miserable. Is that what you want for your daughter? Misery? I have lost my love, and you will not rob my granddaughter of her chance to love. Do you want her to be as miserable as I am? She is not trying to hurt you. You should be ashamed of yourselves.)_" the old woman scolded.

Santana hadn't expected this. If anything, she thought her grandmother would have the worst reaction out of all of them. But here she was-defending her?

Carlos silently retreated back to his spot next to his wife.

"Abuela, I..." Santana trailed off, unable to articulate her thoughts. She was grateful to her grandmother for stepping in - confusing though it may be - but she knew it didn't change how her parents felt about her.

"No. ¡Usted se callara hasta que aprenda a crecer la columna vertebral! Dejar de llorar. Levanté la que mejor que esto. _(No. You will not speak until you grow a backbone! Stop crying. I raised you better than this.)_"

Santana simply nodded, unable to make eye contact with anyone.

"No importa si te gusta los niños o niñas _(It doesn't matter if you like boys or girls),_" her abuela told her, "Sólo nos deshonra si pretender ser alguien porque no son lo suficientemente valientes como para ser tú mismo._ (You are only a disgrace if you are not brave enough to be yourself.)_" She paused to look at her son and daughter-in-law before turning back to Santana. "Ahora enjugará las lágrimas. López mujeres no lloran. _(Now wipe away those tears. Lopez women do not cry.)_"

Santana quickly wiped her face dry and did her best to sit up straight, like she was taught. She had already been rejected by her parents, and she didn't know if she could handle losing her grandmother, too - especially over something she actually could control. She composed herself as best she could on the outside, but on the inside, she was still a wreck. Although she tried, she still couldn't quite wrap her head around what was happening. From the brief glances she had stolen at her parents, it seemed they could hardly fathom it either.

"Ahora ve a tu habitación frente a la basura. Tengo que hablar con tus padres. _(Now go to your room, garbage face. I have to talk to your parents.)_" Her abuela pointed toward the stairs with a look in her eye that said, '_I will take care of them._'

Santana did as she was instructed, practically sprinting to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She flopped onto her bed, but she knew she was not going to sleep any time soon. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest and fear-induced adrenaline coursed through her veins. Downstairs, she could hear voices beginning to rise, but they were still too low to hear properly. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear them, anyway. She didn't know if she could take any more. A part of her already wanted to crawl in a corner and cry herself to sleep, wishing she would fall into a coma, or maybe that she would just die.

Santana stared up at the ceiling, reminding herself she couldn't die and leave Brittany behind. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she thought she had rid herself of in her first year of middle school. The panic in her gut had faded slightly but was still very much alive. Her mind seemed simultaneously empty and chaotic - unable to properly focus on anything, but still unwilling to turn itself off.

She knew she couldn't just lay there, but her body refused movement if any kind, and really, nothing seemed appealing as a viable source of distraction, anyway.

She thought about calling Brittany, but she didn't want to subject her girlfriend to her crying any more than she already had that day. She had already dragged her through enough of her drama. She was afraid it would soon become too much, and she didn't want to seem needy. Still, knowing she would be worried, she picked up her phone and wrote a simple text.

_Hey Britt-Britt! Told my parents. Didn't go well but I'm ok. Talk to you tomorrow! 3 love you! -S_

Although her phone lit up with a new message only moments later, Santana couldn't bring herself to read the reply. She stayed staring at the ceiling until she found the energy to drag herself up and change into pajamas.

She took off her makeup and brushed her teeth, but the intense anxiety she had felt since seeing the ad still hadn't disappeared. She swallowed hard, realizing her family didn't know about the ad yet, not knowing whether they would be angrier about her sexuality or the fact that the whole world would probably know they had raised a lesbian.

She felt disgusted with herself. Although her grandmother's defense had worked to relieve her a little, her parents had confirmed her fear. She was a disgrace - not just to her family, but to the world; to herself. Being with Brittany felt so right, but she would be deluding herself if she truly thought she was best for her. Britt still had a chance for a normal life, and Santana would've forced her to take it if she could stand to face those sorrowful blue eyes. Plus, she had come to discover that she couldn't live without the blond in her life, and Brittany swore the same was true for her. She couldn't hurt her girlfriend; but she also couldn't drag her down. That left one option: she had to be better for her.

She just didn't know how.

Santana sauntered back into her room from the adjoining bathroom she had been readying herself in. She dropped onto her bed and muttered a hushed prayer for strength. Part of her wondered of God could even hear her over the shouting emanating from the floor beneath her.

Since meditation wouldn't work with all the noise and the mental beating she was giving herself, Santana ruled that out as a means of tiring herself out. She thought about dancing or singing, but the idea of making any noise which might bring attention to the fact that she still existed to her family seemed utterly horrifying. She couldn't focus on a book or a movie; even if Imagine Me & You almost always put her in a good mood. She was fairly certain it's magic wouldn't work for her this time.

Much to her surprise, Santana found herself perched at her desk, flipping open a notebook. In front of her was a calculus textbook. She hated math because, though she wasn't failing, it was far from being her best subject. Plus, it was the only class on her schedule which didn't match up with Brittany's. But there was something about struggling with the math problems that drew attention away from her own issues enough to calm her nerves somewhat. She read through the questions and took her time formulating answers, easing her tension as she fell into a world of numbers she normally despised.

It was 1:36 AM when she had finished and corrected each of her problems. It was 2:49 AM when she finished tomorrow's homework. It was 4:23 AM when she finished Thursday's work and it was 5:07 AM when she finally felt tired enough to sleep without worrying about her thoughts attacking her.

Thankful cheer practice was in the afternoon on Wednesdays, she allowed herself to drift off into a dreamless sleep, cuddled up with Brittany's unicorn, only a faint ringing in her head reminding her the whole school knew and the life she once knew was over.

-o-o-o-

**Reviews are love.**


	3. Flavors of Nightmares

**A/N:** As requested, some interaction between Santana and other students. Essentially, this is just the [first half of the] next day/the first day after she came out. Also, if anyone has any requests for what they would like to see, please send them over! If they're good, I'll either work them into another chapter of this story or write something based on them. There's lot of Brittana in this one. It's also by far the longest chapter... I plan on doing probably at least one more with some interaction between Santana and Kurt (and possibly Blaine).

Also, I received a comment providing proper translations for the last chapter. (Thanks btw!) If anyone wants to read the correct ones, it's in the reviews area. Apologies again to those who really do speak Spanish. I literally know little more than basic greetings.

Hope you like this one!

****Offensive language warning!****

-o-o-o-

When her alarm clock sounded, Santana's first response was to slam down on the sleep button. Still cuddling her unicorn, she rolled over.

_Everyone knows._

Her eyes shot open. _Everyone knows._

The lack of sleep didn't matter anymore. _Everyone knows._

She sat up and muttered, "Everyone knows."

The raw panic seeped its way back through her body; the familiar cold pain shooting from her gut to her throat. It was a feeling which reminded her of the days she had chosen to forgo eating altogether, like a deep starvation, but it was the kind that couldn't be fixed with food.

She thought again about finding a hole to die in, but realistically, she knew that wasn't an option. She wanted to stay home sick - she certainly felt sick enough - but somehow the idea of facing her parents, especially since her abuela had gone home late last night and thus was not around to defend her, seemed even less appealing to her than facing her classmates.

Santana gave her unicorn a squeeze before reluctantly climbing out of bed. She flicked off her clock and ran her fingers through her hair as she made her way to the bathroom. She stripped before climbing into the shower and turning up the heat, hoping to warm her frozen features. Unfortunately, the water had little effect on restoring to her what she needed.

Santana dried off and pulled on her robe. She walked over to the mirror and took what she was hoping would be a calming breath, fumbling with her makeup case.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as her powder fell to the tile below. Picking up the container she hissed, "Get it together Lopez. Stop being so pathetic."

Quickly, she fixed up her face, trying to avoid the mess her trembling hands were threatening to cause. She was genuinely surprised when she looked up and discovered a near flawless expression staring back at her. She felt like such a wreck inside that she was relieved to find that she could still hide under the stone-cold exterior.

Santana pulled her hair into its usual ponytail, glancing over at her Cheerios uniform. Coach Sylvester didn't say whether she was still on the squad or not. She wasn't stupid. She knew how these things worked. She wasn't an asset anymore if she harmed Sue's campaign for office. After what happened, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be a Cheerio anyway. Then again, she didn't know what she wanted to do at all anymore. She finished tying up her hair and slid it on anyway, but packed extra clothes in her bag, just in case.

She looked at the clock, realizing she no longer had even a remotely accurate sense of time. She had almost an hour before classes started but unlike other days, when she would've taken the time to relax, she decided to just go straight to school. She texted Brittany on the way, saying to meet her in the auditorium when she arrived. Knowing the blond often forgot to set her alarm, she guess that gave her at least half an hour by herself. She wasn't sure yet if that was a good or a bad thing.

She took her place sitting on the empty stage, her legs dangling over the edge.

Her whole life had changed. That was not lost on her in the least. She didn't know what to think about anything because nothing was the same. Would anyone still take her seriously? Would anyone still respect her? Would anyone remember what the name Santana Lopez stood for? Or would she just become some running dyke joke?

How could she have allowed this to happen?

If she could have, she would have shut Finn up the moment he started speaking, but she couldn't. For the first time in her life, she had found herself paralyzed with shock and fear. She had felt the looks of bystanders as they tried (and failed) to be discrete. One of them had told and that pissed her off, but somehow, it still angered her less than her own quiet reaction.

Santana had realized in that moment just how wholly unprepared she was for all of this. She could no longer deny herself, even if she wanted to. She was out to everyone and now she had to pay the consequences.

"_Close your eyes,_" she sang softly. "_Squeeze 'em tight. I wish I may. I wish I might._"

She closed her eyes.

"_Keep on repeating your little chant. You might believe it, but I just can't. Wish me away, wish me away._"

In her head, she heard herself repeating a prayer she had said the first time she realized she was in love with Brittany. It was a prayer to be straight. She said it every day for four years. She slept with boys to convince herself she could, but although she had thought it would get easier, it didn't. In fact, it got worse. The first few times, she had been able to tell herself she hadn't enjoyed it because they were bad at sex or because she wasn't used to it yet, but unless every boy was horrible in bed - which she had entertained as a distinct possibility for awhile - and unless the sight of one naked was supposed to make her want to vomit instead of turning her on, it only strengthened the terrifying notion that she was indeed a lesbian.

The prayer didn't work then, and it wouldn't work now. Even if it did, what good would it do? Everyone knew already anyway. Her nightmares were a reality.

Her voice faded as she began humming as she reached the instrumental portion of the song. She took in a breath and pulled her knees up to rest her chin on them. She stared out at the seats where she had allowed her emotions to take control of her; first with Brittany, and later with Finn and the rest of the glee kids. She shook her head. That could never be allowed to happen again. The only person who could know she had vulnerabilities was Brittany, because no matter what happened between them, she knew B would never do anything to hurt her. She couldn't say the same for anyone else.

"_How's it working for you so far?_" she began singing again, reaching her favorite verse. "_Do you feel better the longer we're apart? Oh baby, love's not like nicotine. You still see me, don't you, in your dreams? Wish me away; wish me away. Want, wish, hope and pray. Wish me away._"

"Never," came a familiar voice from the doorway. Apparently she had caught Brittany on one of the mornings when she had woken up on time because the blond stood before her, smiling to alleviate Santana's obvious stress. It was working, almost. Santana did feel at least a bit better when she saw the beautiful girl walking her way.

Britt hopped up next to her on the stage and took her hand. She waited patiently for the Latina to speak.

"So my parents hate me," Santana stated. "I'm a disgrace to our family." She shrugged, as if it were no big deal, but both of them knew that was a lie.

"I don't know how anyone can hate you, San. You're pretty much made of awesome."

"Well they do. And I can't blame them," she sighed. "I let them down."

Brittany opened her mouth to say something comforting, but Santana spoke again.

"But what's weird is me abuela was there and she totally defended me. She said I should be ashamed for crying but not for who I love. I wasn't expecting that at all."

"Are you ashamed of me?" Brittany asked quietly after a moment.

"What? Britt, no! No. I could never-I love you. And somehow I got lucky enough for you to love me back. I'm not ashamed of you. I'm just..." she struggled to find the right words. "I'm just not sure the world is ready for us."

That wasn't exactly the truth. While she loved Brittany with every fibre of her being, she couldn't explain how she sometimes still wondered if it really did make her sick to only be attracted to girls; if it really was wrong, even if it felt more right than anything in the world. She was not ashamed of Brittany, though. Never. She was just ashamed of herself.

"Oh. Well they'll have to get ready," Brittany smiled, "because you're my favorite spoon."

Santana looked at her puzzled. "Um, thanks?" She thought for a moment. "B? What does that even mean?"

"I'm the dish and you're the spoon because you're always the best big spoon and we'll run away together. Except I think I'm a spoon too. Or maybe I'm a spork. I never understood why a dish and a spoon would be together, anyway. Isn't that like a lion dating a beaver?" Now it was Brittany's turn to look confused.

Santana chuckled. "Okay, and here I was thinking you were a bicorn and I'm Lebanese," she teased.

Brittany smiled in return. "You might be a dolphin, too."

Santana took a moment to pick that up. "Hey, I'm not a gay shark. Well, I'm not a shark at least. I'm much too pretty to be a shark."

"I think sharks are pretty. Especially ones who have lips that taste better than candy," she winked.

"Says the girl whose lips actually do taste like candy," Santana grinned, smacking her own lips together at the thought. "In fact, now that I think about it, I forgot to eat this morning, so hows abouts you give me some sugar and we get our sweet lady kisses on?"

"In here?" Brittany wasn't used to being allowed to kiss her girlfriend outside their bedrooms.

Santana shrugged. "No one's around, and I have a craving for strawberry lip balm."

Brittany frowned. "I wore the peanut butter cup flavor today."

Santana rolled her eyes jokingly. "That's not the point."

"It's not?"

"No. Now kiss me before I starve over here."

Britt smiled, happily obliging. She pulled the brunette closer, wrapping her arms around her as they deepened the kiss.

Santana felt herself melt into Brittany's embrace, forgetting for awhile why the last day had been so awful. She felt the panic escape from the confines of her body, relieved to be free, if only for a moment.

She remembered the first time she and Brittany kissed. It was her first time ever kissing anyone. They were twelve and hanging out in Britt's backyard inside the clubhouse her father had built for them when they were seven. There was snow on the ground outside, but not enough to build a decent snow fort or anything. Santana was nervously playing with the skirt of an old doll she had brought over ages ago and kept forgetting to bring home.

_"Britts?" she asked._

_"Yeah San?"_

_Santana looked at her intensely, chocolate brown eyes filled with concentration and fear. She hesitated, "Have you ever-" she didn't finish._

_"Have I ever what?"_

_"Nothing. It's just...I was talking to Quinn and she said this guy kissed her under the mistletoe at her church's Christmas party last week."_

_"So?"_

_"So, I was just wondering, have you ever been kissed?"_

_"Yeah, I mean, my parents kiss me all the time. So does Jessie."_

_"No, Britt, I mean like, by someone outside your family. You know, by a boy or whatever."_

_Brittany shrugged. "Boys are gross. The only one I ever wanted to kiss like that moved away last summer anyway. Have you?"_

_Santana shook her head. "No. I'm kind of scared of it."_

_"Why?"_

_She shrugged. "I don't know. Like you said, boys are gross."_

_Brittany thought for a moment, then crossed the small wooden room. She took Santana's hand and pulled her up from her chair. She looped her arms around the Latina's shoulders and kissed her._

_When they broke apart, Santana stared at her, her mouth hanging open. "Why-why did you do that?" she asked._

_Brittany shrugged. "Boys are gross, right? But we're girls. And I definitely don't think you're gross." She looked down at the muddy floor. "Also, your lips look like cherries and I wondered if they tasted like them too."_

_Santana couldn't help but laugh. "So did they?"_

_"No," Brittany replied. "Way better."_

She returned to the present and broke the kiss. She laid her head on Brittany's shoulder, taking in her warmth and the faint scent that was so distinctive to her girlfriend. She wished they could stay there forever, but all too soon the first bell was ringing and they had to go to class. The anxiety creeped back.

It was moments like these when Santana was glad that she and her girlfriend had synced their schedules as closely as possible. She wasn't certain she was capable of maintaining her calm exterior without her by her side.

At first, Santana was afraid to make eye contact with anyone. She kept her chin up, but her eyes purposely averted meeting those of anyone who happened to be passing by. Anyone who did pass by, in fact, probably would have bought her tough act, just as they had for so long. It was the subtleties that only someone close to Santana would notice. She was walking just a little bit faster, and her cheeks were a little redder. Her brow was furrowed slightly, but with concentration, not anger. She was concentrating on one sole purpose: not falling apart.

"Santana!" screeched a voice from behind her.

The Latina whipped around. "What do you want dwarf?" she snapped.

Rachel paid no attention, smiling so sweetly and sympathetically that it was sickening. "Look, Santana, I know we aren't friends or anything - you've made that abundantly clear - and we are technically on opposing teams for glee - you killed that mash-up, by the way - but I wanted to let you know you have my full support."

Santana raised an eyebrow, readying herself to make a snarky comment in return, but the encouraging look she was getting from Brittany told her to hold of, at least until Berry had finished.

"As you likely know, I have two dads myself," she exclaimed proudly. Actually, Santana may have thought it was cute if she had any real desire to go any farther with this conversation. She couldn't stand when people offered her their pity. "And although I am not personally familiar with sapphic tendencies-" Santana snorted at this, thinking about some of the moments she had witnessed between Rachel and Quinn that made her believe otherwise at times. "-I am a big supporter of equal rights and all who follow the rainbow. So, if I'm here for you Santana. Anytime you need to talk or...whatever."

Choosing, for once, to pass up insulting the girl who was actually being nicer to her than she deserved, she simply replied bitterly, "Yeah, well if you want to support me, then you may want to teach your blubbering beached whale of a boyfriend how not to out people in the middle of the fucking hallway."

Santana was turning to leave when she heard Rachel remark, "Actually, I broke up with him yesterday. I couldn't be with someone who would do such a thing - even to you."

Santana turned back. "Wow, I'm impressed. You've finally shown a shred of good judgment." She clapped her hands lightly together. "Yay!"

Rachel had no idea how to respond but muttered a confused, "Thank you," before saying, "Just know, you have people who care about you." She laid a hand on Santana's arm. "I care about you."

Santana stared disgustedly at the hand a moment before shaking it off. Again, for Brittany's sake, she managed a "Yeah, whatever. Thanks," instead of being completely hostile. It helped in her attempt at civility, she supposed, that the nagging discomfort she was feeling was distracting her enough that she couldn't come up with very good insults at the moment, anyway.

Besides, she supposed Rachel might not always be so bad, and it was kind of nice knowing at least someone besides Brittany was going to really support her. That she had broken up with Pyramid Nipples was certainly a shock, but happy one. She hoped he was devastated. Maybe then he would feel at least a little bit of the pain she did.

Santana turned back toward the direction of her classroom, shooting a deathly glare at a nearby couple who were staring at her. They looked away immediately and she smiled slightly. At least she could still intimidate people.

She and Brittany slid into their seats in the second row and pulled out their notebooks. Santana always smiled when she saw her book. Britt had decorated it one day for her, so the once plain black wad now covered with stickers and rhinestones, and glued across it was a set of photos they had taken in a photobooth at the mall in the summer. Although originally the set was of five photos, only four were glued on. She had cut off the fifth one to carry in her wallet because Brittany had thought it would be fun to kiss her in the booth, and the last picture was evidence of that.

Inside the notebook, there were doodles all through the first few pages. She had drawn unicorns and rainbows and left a handwritten note that said, "I love you even more than fondue! And Lord Tubbington too. (But don't tell him that please. If his self-esteem gets lower, he's going to start smoking again. I found a cigar under his bed last night.)" That always made her beam.

She flipped open to an empty page and scribbled down some notes, but she was quickly distracted by the drawings Brittany was preparing. She was always impressed by the girl's art skills. She wished she had that talent, but the best she had ever drawn was a semi-decent picture of a cat, on which she had scribbled, "_Lord Tubbington thinks you're purrfect, and I do too._" It was hanging in Britt's locker.

Santana remembered one day when they were ten and Brittany had tried her best to teach her to draw. She had found it hysterical that the Latina could barely form a semi-straight line or a circle that was round, rather than just a squiggly mess. It had made her even more frustrated and she lashed out, screaming something mean about Brittany's teaching skills, but within minutes, she had felt nothing but guilt. Britt didn't waste any time accepting her apology, but she had barely drawn since, unless it was a heart or a star in the margin of her paper.

Santana's thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of something hitting the back of her neck. She reached back to touch her skin and felt a sticky, wet substance. A spitball. She flung it off and tried not to gag as she turned to see two guys in the back high-fiving each other in the back. She glared at them, which they seemed to find even more hilarious.

Santana quietly ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and wrote something on it. She rolled it up around a sharp pencil and pulled an elastic from her pencil case, which she wrapped around it to make sure it stayed together. When she was certain the teacher was facing away, she chucked it at them, hitting one square it the forehead with the pencil tip. She laughed as he winced, then watched as he read her note.

_Touch me again Porky and I'll cut off those tiny balls of yours to hang on a keychain and use as a good luck charm._

She gave him one last look to let him know she was serious before turning back to copy down the notes she had missed. She hoped somehow that she could deter all attacks like this, but honestly, it wasn't this she was worried about. She didn't want people thinking of her differently or talking about her like she was a freak. She could handle them when they attacked her to her face. It was when she wasn't around to control the situation that she truly worried.

Brittany gave her a look to ask what had happened, having only seen part of what had just happened. Santana shrugged, as if to let her know she shouldn't worry about it, which she didn't.

On their way out of class, she made sure to shove the culprits as she passed them, giving them another warning look as she walked away. People needed to know she was not going to take their shit without a fight.

Second period probably would have gone better if she hadn't been seated next to a group of juniors who were way too interested in asking her deeply personal questions which she had no desire at all to answer, but at least they hadn't shot spit at her. She answered a few easy questions before telling them all to get out of her line of vision before she picked one at random to torture.

Third period was the biggest challenge. Spanish with Mr. Shuester. He kept looked over at her with pitiful glances, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that not only were Artie, Tina, Rachel and Mercedes there with her and Brittany, so was Finn. As soon as she saw him, she felt a fresh anger bubbling in her chest. It was so intense it was almost painful and it literally made her unable to see straight.

He sauntered in as if nothing had happened and that made her seethe even more. She hissed a string of curses in Spanish, causing Shue to turn and mix his pity with disproval. If she hadn't been surrounded by people actively working to distract her, she probably would have castrated him - or at least kicked him in the balls; hard. Lucky for both of them, he had the good sense to sit far away from her and out of her direct line of fire.

Brittany took Santana's sweaty hand and whispered, "It's okay San." The touch was at least somewhat comforting.

Santana turned her attention to the others. It was obvious they wanted to ask her about it, although she wasn't sure exactly what it was they wanted to know. If she had the strength, she probably would have called them out on it, but none of them were actually saying anything, so she decided to let it slide. Even Berry and Wheels were doing their best to be tolerable.

Shue started the lesson and despite being fluent in the language and not needing to do anything to pass, Santana decided to pay some attention. Actually, she took great pleasure in correcting her teacher whenever he messed anything up. She seemed a little too smug for his liking, but he couldn't exactly pretend she didn't have point. She had been speaking Spanish since birth. What he did think was that it was slightly unfair that she had been allowed to take the course with a such a clear advantage, but she had argued the same could be said about anyone who excelled in other subjects and managed to convince Figgins it was a good idea. Besides, Britt had learned Spanish from all the time she spent around Santana and her family growing up and she was still allowed to take the course.

Although it was sometimes boring for both of them, they passed the time by playing games on notes they passed between them. Brittany was particularly partial to hangman, so Santana did her best to come up with words that would be easy enough for her to guess, but hard enough that it took a few tries. Despite her normally competitive nature, she liked to let her girlfriend win because of the triumphant smile she always received in return. This only went for certain games, though. Although she helped Britt become a Monopoly master, and the blond was naturally a winner a winner at Snakes and Ladders, if anyone brought out Candyland, Santana couldn't be held accountable for her actions. She was the reigning champion, and even a cute blond couldn't take that title from her.

The game was somewhat monotonous and the class seemed to drag on for ages, but there was something comforting about it. Santana had been too worried the last day to experience anything besides fear, anger, sadness, or shame, so it was a comfort to her knowing that as long as she stayed in the back of the classroom in a corner with Britt, she was safe. If they could only do away with a certain pasty jock...

_Girlfriends?_ Brittany wrote in loops on the paper, guessing the word. Santana's reply was a winky face. She soothed herself as she watched the girl think hard about what word she should use.

She started to think maybe there might be something good to come out of this. At least she and Brittany wouldn't have to hide anymore. Britt had made it no secret that she was bisexual, and Santana wouldn't have to worry anymore about being unable to stand up for her relationship or worry about someone hitting on her girlfriend right in front of her. She supposed this also meant they could hold hands and kiss in public, too, but she was still wary about that, though she couldn't quite explain why.

Brittany nudged her and pointed down at the paper. Four letters? She hated these ones. They were always really hard or really easy - and it was usually the former. Although she liked when Britt won, she didn't like losing miserably.

_E?_ she guessed. Britt drew a head, signifying that was wrong.

_A?_ A body appeared.

_I?_ She was waiting to find out what vowel it was before guessing any other letters. The first arm appeared.

_O?_ Two O's were written in the center of the word. She assumed this meant she could stop guessing vowels.

Santana thought for a moment, ruling out letters that could fit at the end. She laughed at her first thought and guessed, _B?_

Another arm appeared and she sighed. She decided it had to be one of nine letters, but if she guessed all nine, she would lose.

_T?_ A leg appeared.

_N?_ Brittany filled the N in at the end of the wood. That was almost no help. There were several words this could be.

Tapping her pencil, she decided on _M?_ The figure now had a frown.

_L?_ One eye.

_S?_ Brittany silently cheered and filled in the S to spell Soon.

_I picked it cuz if you'll let me, I wanna take you out soon. On a real date. No napkins._

Santana blushed and wrote back, _I'd love that B! You're so cute._

_I'm proud of you, S._

_For what?_

_Being so brave. I know this is hard for you, but I'll help you through. You're a unicorn too; even if you don't let people see it._

It was in moments like this when Santana wondered how anyone considered Brittany any less than a genius. She could sometimes be naive, but that's what made her so beautiful. She had an incredible innocence to her, like the world was still wonderful and new, while for Santana, it had always seemed dark and miserable. Britt may have been a little bit slow at times in picking up what people meant by things, and she said things that didn't always make sense to people who didn't know her, but she always knew when it counted, and because of her unique view of the world, she often saw things that others overlooked.

_I love you B. So much._

_I love you too._

A date with Brittany sounded amazing. She could still feel the swell of her heart when Britt had confirmed they were dating when they ate dinner at Breadstix a few weeks ago. She drifted off into her dreamworld, in which she lived a perfect life with her beautiful girlfriend and no stupid people around to interrupt or disrupt them. In her dream, there was no one to tell them they were wrong or sick or disgraceful. There was no one who didn't take them seriously or try to talk them out of it. It was just her and Brittany, together forever.

Unfortunately, the dream ended with the bell and it was time for lunch. Santana made sure she knocked herself into Finn as she left.

"Watch where you're going Man-Boobs. I know it must be hard to keep track of all that fat around that disgustingly blubbery body of yours, but maybe if you lay off the tacos once in awhile, it'll be easier." She stepped on his foot, wishing for once that she was wearing heels, and attempted to make her way through the crowds of people to where Britt was waiting. She was going to try to be nicer to people, but after what he had done, "people" didn't include Finn Hudson.

He looked as if he wanted to say something in response, but he refrained. Santana would have normally smiled smugly, but this wasn't satisfying. It wasn't anything. She walked away, heading toward her locker to put away her books.

If she had seen it coming, maybe it wouldn't have hurt so badly, but she didn't, and it did. How was she supposed to know? No one had ever slushied a Cheerio before. No one would dare. But as the cold purple liquid attacked her face, she heard the laughs of two guys in front of her.

"Fucking dyke," one of them remarked.

"Carpet muncher," the other called her, as she attempted to wipe the burning wetness from her teary eyes. "You dykes need to learn a lesson."

She had just barely gotten it out in time to see a third guy approaching, readying himself to toss his blueberry drink at Britt, and jumped in front of the blond, who was currently frozen with shock, having never experienced such rudeness before. The red splashed onto Santana's already soaked features, little drops still making their way to Brittany, but not much.

Quicker to recover this time, Santana wiped off her face and screamed, "Don't you ever even consider touching her, you homophobic assholes. Just because your mommy didn't show you enough love as a child and your dad left for some stripper whore he met at 7-Eleven doesn't mean you can attack a beautiful, innocent girl like Brittany." She shoved one of the guys into the locker. "Don't you dare come near her again or I'll go all Lima Heights on your asses."

"Ooh, tough butch," his friend spat. "You couldn't touch us. You couldn't handle guys, so you hooked up with a chick. Tell you what, if you two let me film you making out, I'll promise never to slushy you again."

Before she knew what she was doing, Santana had slapped him. Hard. "Next time you say anything to either of us, that'll be closed-fist. Fuck you; you're just threatened by the fact that most girls would probably rather sleep with me than insecure dumbasses like yourself. And they'd like it." She turned to the blond. "Come on Britt. These clowns aren't worthy of our time."

Santana took the blond by her hand and led her into the girl's locker room so she could get cleaned up. She grabbed a stack of paper towels and began wiping herself off, thankful that the purple and red at least hadn't stained her skin like the purple ink from the till that exploded on her one time during the summer she had worked at a clothing store.

"San," Brittany began.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry for getting violent. I know you don't like that. But those guys-"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For defending me, silly. For taking the slushy for me."

"Oh. Yeah, I mean, it's nothing. No one picks on you and gets away with it." Santana shrugged. She peered into the mirror. "I look awful."

"You look delicious."

Santana couldn't help but laugh. Brittany was always comparing people to food and it was absolutely adorable. Any other time or place and she would make it into a dirty joke or innuendo, but she was distracted by the sudden realization that her uniform was stained with purple and red. Sue was going to kill her.

She sighed dramatically and stripped off her top, holding it under the water. There was no way the stains were coming out otherwise.

"So where are we going on our date, Britts?" Santana asked, trying to make herself think about happier things.

"That's a surprise."

"A surprise? So it's not Breadstix?"

"How'd you know?" Brittany frowned. "I'm going to have to come up with something else now."

Santana laughed. "You don't have to come up with anything else. I loves me some Breadstix. I could literally live at that place and never get bored."

"No, but I want to surprise you. It's okay. I have another idea."

Santana deliberated a moment before agreeing. "Just make sure you tell me how to dress, okay? I don't want to clash with the decor."

"Done. Jeans are good."

"Jeans." Santana nodded. "I can work with that. Just, you're not taking me hiking or some shit, are you? Puck tried that once and we both ended up with a gross reaction to poison ivy. Not romantic at all. Especially his. Yuck."

Brittany stifled a laugh, remembering how silly the brunette had looked all angry and covered in red blotches.

Santana jumped at the sound of a dramatic scream coming from the doorway of the room. She turned to see a fellow Cheerio gaping disgustedly at her. "What's your problem?" she asked.

Brittany looked scared, searching for the source of the girl's terror.

"Perv!" the girl screeched. "You came in here to scope us out, didn't you? Just lurking and waiting and-why aren't you wearing a shirt? Ew, gross, were you two just..."

"No. What the hell?" Santana scrunched up her face, wondering if this girl was for real. "Are you kidding me with this? I came in here because my shirt was wrecked and I'm trying to clean it."

The girl raised her eyebrow. "You shouldn't be allowed in here."

"Um, it's the girl's locker room. I'm a girl," Santana stated, looking her as if she was a complete idiot, but deep down she had always wondered if she was betraying the others by being around them; by changing in the same room and not telling them. It wasn't as if she had ever checked them out - well, besides Brittany, and Quinn, occasionally - but she did feel like she was lying to them, anyway.

"Yeah, I mean, where else would she go?" Brittany asked, confused.

"You're a freak, that's what you are," the girl exclaimed before turning around, deciding against doing whatever it was she came in to do.

Santana looked down at her shirt, turning off the water and throwing it down into the sink with so much force that water splashed up against the mirror above.

She grabbed the extra sweater she had packed out of her bag and slid it on, then replaced her skirt with jeans. She knew the green cotton would clash with the red and white skirt, making her look like an ugly Christmas ornament or something.

She slunk down onto the bench next to Brittany, and took a breath. Santana picked up the her hand and forced a smile. "Hey, so, you want to get out of here and get some lunch or whatever? I'm starved."

Brittany smiled at her. "Yeah." She stood and walked over to her locker. "I just have to do one thing first."

Santana watched her curiously. "Why are you changing?"

"Why not? I look hot in anything."

"Well, yeah. But Sue is going to be pissed," Santana protested.

"Because I don't want to wear my uniform if you aren't."

"I don't want to get you in trouble."

"They were going to slushy me anyway," Britt replied. "And you stopped that. So if you get in trouble, so will I."

"You're sweet," Santana smiled, "but you don't have to do this."

"I want to." Brittany threw her uniform in her locker and adjusted the pink t-shirt she was wearing to show more cleavage.

Santana laughed, crossing the room to pull it back up. "No, no. Those are mine now," she winked.

Brittany smiled and nodded. She held out her pinky and the brunette gladly accepted as they headed to the cafeteria.

Santana stared at her options, deliberating on what to eat. She didn't particularly feel like throwing up - her day had been bad enough - but she was really hungry. Maybe she could binge just this once. She picked up a small tray of tatertots and a bottle of water. She had forgotten to make Sue's famous concoction that morning.

Anyone besides Brittany probably would have questioned the lack of food on Santana's plate, but the blond had only a small salad on her own, devoid of anything which might give it flavor, so they seemed about even. They paid for their food and took a seat.

No one seemed to have noticed their entrance into the room, because it didn't appear as if anyone was bothering to even so much as look in their direction, let alone throw spitballs or slushies their way. Santana smiled as Britt reached for her hand. It felt so odd holding hands in public as girlfriends, even if they had been doing it for years before. She knew she really had nothing to lose anymore, but a big part of her still felt unnerved. Still, the softness of the pale hand which clung to hers was comforting and the warmth made her feel like all she truly needed was right in front of her.

"San?" Britt asked with the most serious of expressions.

"Yeah B?"

"If you're not going to eat those last two tatertots, can I have them?"

Santana laughed, "Go for it."

Brittany grinned as she used her free hand to swipe the tots and pop them in her mouth. Santana couldn't help but beam at her cuteness. She squeezed her hand.

"Sure you don't want to tell me more about this date?"

-o-o-o-

**Thoughts? Opinions? Reviews are love!**


	4. I Will Never Let You Fall

**A/N:** Wow I took forever to update. Sorry guys... All I can say is the last few episodes were really discouraging and I'm not really a fan of what they have been doing (and then I had finals). So I guess this is now what I wish happened. I put in a lot of fluff in with the angst because that's the kind of mood I'm in today. Enjoy!

Dedicating this to my Fuzzy Britt-Britt for reminding me to update this and giving me inspiration :)

-O-O-O-

Fourth period went off without a hitch. Although the painful panic returned any time she wasn't alone with Brittany, Santana found that no one much cared in that class, save perhaps for a few exceptions who didn't bother saying or doing anything about it. Still, the morning's events were enough to make her want to curl up and die, much like she had dreamed of doing when she had woken up. It felt like she was in some sort of surreal dreamland, like she was just moving through the world on impulse, rather than intension.

Between periods, Santana cornered Rachel and asked her to give in her calculus homework for her. Berry, stunned that she was being given a legitimate request and not one of Santana's usual mean pseudo-favors, immediately agreed, taking the sheets and hopping off to class. Normally, Santana wouldn't have bothered, but she had spent all that time the previous night on them and Rachel was probably the only one she knew for certain she could trust in that particular class.

Well, there was one other person she could maybe trust, but he wasn't going to be in class today. She had decided that shortly after being slushied.

Kurt sauntered down the hallway, still cheery from his lunch with Blaine. He was about to turn into the classroom when he felt a strong tug on his expensive shirt. Inclined to go in the direction that would keep his designer clothing from ripping, and maybe also to find out what was going on, he whipped around.

"Satan?"

"Come with me," she whispered. Knowing it wasn't a request, he nodded and followed her into the choir room. Although no one used that area much outside of glee, she locked the door just in case.

Kurt took a seat in the first row of chairs as Santana hesitated in front of him. He had never seen her like this before. No one had, he supposed, except maybe Brittany. She had to have some redeeming qualities that made the blond fall in love with her.

"I want to-" her breath caught. "I," she squeezed her eyes shut as if she was trying to get through something truly horrifying and painful. "I want to apologize."

Well he hadn't expected that. "You...want to apologize? That's unexpected."

Her eyes snapped open. "Yes, now shut up and let me do it before I change my mind."

He nodded for her to continue.

"Look, I know I'm a bitch. Believe it or not, I'm actually not proud of that most of the time. But I don't really feel bad for most of the stuff I've said. Especially to Pyramid Nipples. Manatees have thick skin - and apparently tiny brains." She rolled her eyes at the thought of the ogre.

This was, so far, not a great apology. But for Santana, it was the best she had ever done.

"I mean, usually people deserve what they have coming to them and I'm just being really honest, you know?"

He raised his eyebrow.

"But I've maybe been unfair to you," she swallowed.

"Maybe?"

She folded her arms and leaned against the piano. "All those gay jokes weren't funny. And most of them weren't even about you." She was staring at the floor. Santana Lopez was not someone who apologized, and she vowed this would not be a regular occurrence.

"You took it out on me because you were afraid of being gay yourself," he stated.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, at first I was just being mean, but there was a part of me that I guess was just really was scared," she admitted. Eyes shooting up, she added, "And if you tell anyone I said any of this, I will end you."

"Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone you're human."

"Good." Santana averted her gaze again. "So. I'm sorry."

Kurt stood and walked over to her. "I'm not going to say it's okay, because it's not, but I do understand, and I forgive you."

She studied him. "You do?"

He nodded. "Can I ask," he began, "what brought this on? I know you. You wouldn't apologize just because of something Finn did; detestable though it may have been."

Santana fell silent. Her mouth went dry as she explained the morning's events. "This is what I was afraid of. I didn't want to come out, especially after what happened to you. I just wanted the senior year I had planned. I could be head cheerleader and take charge and Britts and I could be happy in secret and my parents wouldn't hate me."

"You told your parents?"

"Well, I kind of had no choice."

"True. And they didn't take it well?"

"No. Believe it or not, I didn't have the magical upbringing you did. My dad isn't going to be marching in any pride parades or standing up for me against homophobes or whatever. My dad won't even look at me. We don't all have Burt Hummel on our sides."

Santana hated sharing all of this with him - with anyone - but he was the only one she thought might really get it. Blaine might, too, she guessed, but she didn't have a history with him, like she did Kurt.

He didn't speak. He just pulled her into a hug. She wasn't sure at first how to react, but she eventually she wrapped her arms around him in return.

"Look, it's not like, you know, I want us to be friends or anything."

"No, of course not," Kurt smiled.

They pulled apart and she grinned back at him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure Sata-Santana."

"How did you put up with it? Everyone's shit."

"You get used to it," Kurt shrugged. "Most of the time, it's a small price to pay for being myself."

"I guess."

"I know you weren't ready for this," he commented, "and believe me, I do not condone Finn's actions, but maybe eventually this will be a good thing."

"I doubt it."

He sighed. "You're probably right. It's going to take awhile."

She folded her arms. "It's not like I was never going to come out. I just needed more time. I wanted to do it on my schedule. It's one thing for people to speculate, it's another for them to know."

"High school is a rough time," Kurt stated. "And it's even harder when you're gay."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Pixie Dust."

He shot her a look but she just shrugged, so he continued, "But high school will be over soon. And it'll get easier to deal with. You'll have me and Blaine, and Brittany, of course. We know how hard this is and what you're going through."

She nodded.

"Besides, when has Santana Lopez ever let anyone get to her. You don't need us," he told her, "but you have us anyway."

"Thanks Kurt."

"Anytime." He smiled at her and cocked his head. "So how are you doing? Are you okay?"

She thought for a moment and lightly shook her head. "Not really."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Her eyes wandered around the room, for a moment missing the New Directions. She shook that thought out of her head, reminding herself she had way more solos in only a few weeks with the Troubletones than she had in years with Schue's club. Still, although she would never admit to this, she missed some of the other glee clubbers.

Kurt peered down at his watch. "Well we've passed the point of even appearing to class fashionably late, so how do you want to spend the rest of the period?"

Santana shrugged. "I don't know. I hadn't really planned past apologizing. I kind of thought that might take longer," she laughed. "I don't do it often."

"Obviously."

"I guess we could, I don't know, talk or something."

Kurt's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and it took all his energy not to make a comment about not wanting to hear about her demonic rituals or visits to the underworld. "Talk about what?"

"I don't know. Anything but coming out. I just need a distraction."

Kurt laughed, "I understand. There's more to both of us than our sexuality."

"Lately it doesn't feel like that."

"It will, eventually. Try not to get trapped behind the label. You're gay, and that's great, but you're a lot more than that, too."

She simply nodded in response. "At least someone knows that," she remarked. "So, are you ready for the Troubletones to kick New Direction ass at Sectionals. Don't think I'm going to go easy on you because of this little chat."

"Ha," Kurt scoffed. "Please, you'll be lucky if the judges even remember you after we perform."

"Oh please. After that mash-off, I'm not even worried. We have this in the bag. Especially with manboobs bringing you down." Santana was about to elaborate when she felt a buzz in her pocket and pulled out her phone. Brittany's name appeared across the screen, alerting her to a new text message. She smiled unconsciously as she read it. Smiling was inevitable and involuntary when it came to being around Brittany. Her hard exterior was nothing compared to even the thought of those blue eyes.

"Britt is coming to join us," she announced. "Apparently she came up with something that might cheer me up, and I guess that can't wait until after class."

"She was never one for patience," Kurt commented.

"I don't know, she waited for me for a long time," Santana muttered quietly.

There was silence for a moment until they heard a knock on the door. Kurt rushed over to let the blond inside.

"Hey Brittany!" he exclaimed.

"Hi!" the blond grinned, making her way over to her girlfriend. The silence returned as Brittany assessed the situation to make sure she hadn't interrupted a confrontation of some sort.

"Kurt was just...helping me," Santana explained.

There was no mistaking the shock and confusion which crossed the blond's features at the idea that the two were getting along. "Oh, great!"

"I, um, apologized for how I treated him," she stated in a hushed tone, brown eyes looking up to meet blue.

A wide smile crossed Brittany's face as she hugged Santana. "I'm so proud of you!" she whispered.

"Thanks," the brunette mumbled. "So, what was this idea you had?"

Brittany hesitated a moment, suddenly nervous. "I-I have a song that I want to perform with you," she replied with a hint of questioning in her voice. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, B! I'd love that. Just name the song!"

Kurt looked between the two of them a moment and ducked his head. "I think I'll take that as my cue to leave."

"You don't have to," Brittany replied.

"No, I don't want to be the third wheel. Especially if you two start doing more than singing. Girl on girl doesn't do anything for me. Besides, I already texted Blaine. He's going to cut out in a few and come meet me."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"Thank you again, Kurt," Santana said as he pulled open the door and disappeared behind it. She turned back to the girl before her and grinned. "Don't leave me in suspense here."

"Well, I'm an awesome singer," Brittany began, "but you're more awesome. I kill at dancing. So I was thinking you could sing and I'll dance."

Santana nodded. "That sounds perfect."

Brittany smiled and bounced over the speaker to plug her iPod in, searching for the instrumental version of the song so only Santana's voice would be heard.

"Wait, Britt, I don't even know what song we're doing."

"You'll know it. Even though you pretend to be all badass and hard, I know this is one of your most-played songs. I've seen your iTunes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Santana replied, indignant.

"Uh-huh," Brittany laughed. "Just get in position so I don't dance into you."

"I don't think I'd mind that so much."

"Yeah, yeah, just do it." The blond smiled nervously. "When you sang Songbird to me, that meant so much. You said that's how you felt about me-"

"Feel," Santana corrected. "It's how I still feel about you."

Pale skin flushed as Brittany continued, "Well, this song is how I feel about you. I mean every word of it, even if you're the one singing."

She pressed play and ran to her starting position. She had been choreographing a dance to this song for a long time that she was saving for their anniversary, but she decided her girlfriend needed this more than ever. She needed to know how Brittany truly felt about her; that she was the most important person in her life.

As the first few bars played, Brittany gracefully began gliding through some simple steps, saving the more complicated movements for once the song had begun. Santana stood facing her, blinking back tears as she recognized the music.

The Latina took a deep breath, steadying herself as she began to belt out the lyrics.

_When I see your smile,_

_Tears run down my face_

_I can't replace._

_And now that I'm strong I have figured out,_

_How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul._

_And I know I'll find deep inside me,_

_I can be the one._

_I will never let you fall._

_I'll stand up for you forever._

_I'll be there for you through it all._

_Even if saving you sends me to Heaven._

Santana sang as best she could, but Brittany's dancing was enough to take her breath away. Knowing the dance was for her and her alone, knowing what the song meant, it was enough to choke her up completely.

_It's okay. It's okay. It's okay._

_And seasons are changing,_

_And waves are crashing,_

_And stars are falling all for us._

_Days grow longer and nights grow shorter,_

_I can show you I'll be the one._

_I will never let you fall._

_I'll stand up for you forever._

_I'll be there for you through it all._

_Even if saving you sends me to Heaven._

When Brittany danced, she went into a trance of sorts. The world disappeared around her and she melted into her movements, any thoughts outside of dance dissipated as her body took over. But this time was different. The dance came naturally, without thought, but the world didn't melt entirely away. Her eyes connected with Santana's and only moved reluctantly when she did a spin, always returning back to the beautiful brunette.

_'Cause you're my, you're my, my_

_My true love, my whole heart._

_Please don't throw that away._

_'Cause I'm here for you._

_Please don't walk away and,_

_Please tell me you'll stay._

_Stay._

Santana remembered the first time she had seen Brittany dance. They were nine, and up until that point, despite two years of friendship, she had never known the talent which resided within her best friend. She knew she went to dance class, but so did half the other girls in their grade. She had been mesmerized by the grace and beauty with which Brittany had moved, nothing short of captivated by how the dance could take her over and transform her almost into a new person. Later, Santana realized dancing didn't make Brittany a different person, it showed who she truly was. Dancing showed the world the girl Santana knew, the one so elegant, so powerful, so intensely stunning. Santana had always known that side of her, and now, Brittany was giving it to her.

Santana recognized the irony in the song choice. Everyone thought she was the one to take care of the blond. They thought Brittany was dependent upon her because they thought Brittany was dumb and didn't know any better. They thought Santana was her guardian, her protector, and that she needed Santana to keep her from hurting herself. It was true, in some ways, the Latina was all of those things. She did everything she knew how for the blond, and would have gone to the edge of the universe and back if it meant keeping her safe and happy. What people often failed to recognize was that Brittany was not a child, and Santana needed her just as much, if not more. Brittany kept her in line, she kept her from going insane, from hurting herself and gave her a reason to live. Brittany was the light at the end of the tunnel for her. She was her soulmate.

_Use me as you will_

_Pull my strings just for a thrill_

_And I know I'll be okay,_

_Though my skies are turning gray_

Santana winced slightly as she sang the verse. She knew she had hurt Brittany with her "sex isn't dating" crap, pushing her away and pretending not to love her. She had seen the desperation and pain which radiated from those blue eyes. She had wondered for awhile if she had crushed her spirit forever. In fact, as much as it had killed her, Santana couldn't even blame Brittany much for staying with Artie. Even though he was a gross boy, until he snapped and called her stupid, and despite the fact that he babied her to an obnoxious extent, in Santana's opinion, he had given Brittany what she couldn't at the time. He had treated her as more than a sex object and he wasn't ashamed or afraid of their relationship like she had been. Brittany had deserved better. Maybe now she could finally provide it for her.

_I will never let you fall_

_I'll stand up for you forever_

_I'll be there for you through it all,_

_Even if saving you sends me to Heaven_

Brittany saw the tears spilling from her girlfriend's deep brown eyes and worried for a moment that she had done something wrong. She remembered Santana sometimes cried when she was happy, though, and she recalled tears forming in her own eyes when she had been in this very room, listening happily and contentedly as the girl had gently sung Songbird to her only months before. This calmed her nerves as she prepared to wind down the routine.

She loved Santana more than she could ever imagine loving another being. Since they first met on the playground when they were seven, she had known there was something special about their relationship. Since their first kiss, she had known it was more than friendship, and although she couldn't pinpoint the moment she fell in love, she knew it was real and it was never going to leave her. She had survived without her for awhile, but ultimately, she always knew if Santana would let her, she would always love her. She didn't understand why it was such a big deal or why others seemed to judge them so harshly, because it always seemed normal to her to love girls, and for her, it was normal, but she knew now that this was why her girlfriend had been so afraid. She needed Santana to know that she didn't always have to protect her. Sometimes Brittany could do the protecting, because even if the world wasn't completely ready for their kind of love, she was, and she couldn't let that come between them again. She was lucky that her parents had been nothing but supportive of her and Santana. When she had told them, they laughed and replied that they figured it out for themselves long before. They encouraged her to be happy. She only wished Santana's parents saw things the way hers had. She wished everyone could.

_I will never let you fall._

_I'll stand up with you forever._

_I'll be there for you through it all,_

_Even if saving you sends me to Heaven._

Brittany finished her dance moments later, as the music faded to silence, pulling herself out of the trance and crossing over to the brunette. She didn't comment on the tears or say a word about the few times she heard Santana's voice begin to crack. She just lifted the girl's chin and kissed her.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

They remained in a tight embrace for what seemed like hours, though in reality it was only a few minutes.

"Britt?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Brittany pulled back to look at her. "For what?"

"For making you wait for me, for putting you through all this, for everything. I know this has to be hard on you, too."

The blond shrugged. "It is," Brittany replied matter-of-factly. "But I have you," she stated, "that's what matters to me. I feel like together, we could do anything."

"I bet we could."

Brittany nodded enthusiastically and kissed her again. "I believe in you, Santana. I believe in us."

The brunette smiled. "I believe in us, too. The spoon and the spork," she laughed. "Together forever."

"And ever, and ever, and ever."

Santana relaxed into her girlfriend's warm body, wishing every moment could be like this. She rested her head in the crevasse between Brittany's neck and her shoulder, burrowing into her. For a moment, she wondered why she had let herself be so afraid of the rest of the school when she had such an amazing girl by her side. She could handle the jerks. It was just her parents she couldn't handle. She kissed the skin nearest her lips and sighed, never wanting to let go. As long as she was here, she was safe. They both were.

They stayed like that until the bell sounded. They were already breaking one Cheerios rule; they couldn't risk being late in addition to everything else. Santana pulled back and took her girlfriend's hand, leading her to the locker room, hoping their PE attire would be suitable for the day.

They barely made it out onto the field before Sue spotted them. Santana supposed it wasn't hard, considering they stuck out like sore thumbs.

"Ellen! Portia!" she called. Santana wondered which one she was supposed to be and whether that was supposed to be an insult. She would have thought of it as a compliment coming from anyone else, but Sue never gave compliments. "What's with the getup? We're here to cheer, not hit each other with sticks. Where are your uniforms?"

"They're in our lockers. We got slushied earlier and I tried to get out the stains, but I couldn't."

Sue's face was hard, but strangely, her anger didn't seem to be directed at them. "I want names. No one slushies my Cheerios and I mean no one."

Santana bit her lip. "I don't know who they were," she admitted. "I'd never seen them before and I could barely see them, I just slammed them into lockers and threatened their lives if they went near Brittany again. Then we left."

Sue sighed with frustration. "Get in the group. I want you back in those uniforms tomorrow."

Not wanting to tempt fate, or an angry coach, they scrambled across the field to meet the rest of the squad. The girl who had seen them in the locker room earlier gave them the stink eye, but the rest acted as if nothing had happened, and both girls were relieved.

Practice went by quickly, despite the seemingly infinite number of laps they had to run and dealing with the sophomore who couldn't seem to get her backflip right. She got the brunt of Santana's frustration, as a result, which probably didn't help much in making her a better performer, but it certainly relieved some of the built-up tension the Latina had been feeling all day.

The piercing sound of the whistle signaled the end of practice. Sweaty and gross, the girls linked pinkies and sauntered into the locker room. After the incident that morning, Santana was more than thankful for the individual shower stalls. She climbed inside and stripped off her clothes, allowing the pelting of the water to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes as she washed away the day. Running her soapy fingers through wet hair, she felt relief. At least she had made it through the day. That was more than she had expected when she woke up that morning. She dried herself, replacing her clothes before heading to the mirrors to fix her hair back into it's ponytail.

A pale hand landed on her arm. "No, leave it down," Brittany smiled and Santana dropped her hands, slipping the elastic over her wrist instead.

The brunette smiled at her girlfriend's reflection in the mirror. "Are you getting a ride?" she asked, not wanting to part quite yet.

"Yeah, I was thinking we could do something if you don't want to go home yet."

"I don't want to go home ever," Santana muttered. "What do you have in mind, babe?"

"Nothing, really. Maybe just drive around for a bit?"

"Anything sounds better than seeing my parents right now."

Brittany frowned, but Santana turned, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be okay. Like you said, as long as we're together, we can get through anything."

The blond still had creases in her forehead, but a slight smile tugged at her lips. "You can always come live it my house. My parents love you almost as much as I do."

"Won't they think that's weird now that they know we're dating?"

Brittany laughed. "They've known a really long time."

Santana thought her eyes might jump out of her head. "What? How?"

"You're not exactly subtle, baby," Britt laughed. "They saw us cuddling all the time and how we look at each other and when I told them, they just laughed at me and said, 'Finally!' They said they've been planning our wedding since we were twelve and they saw us kiss in my backyard."

Santana blushed. "They saw that?" Brittany nodded. "You have the best parents. I wish they were mine."

"They kind of are," Brittany pointed out.

The brunette couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. "I think I should go home tonight," she said, "but I might take you up on your offer if they have a repeat performance of last night."

Brittany nodded and extended her hand, which was quickly met by familiar soft skin. They left behind the empty locker room and headed toward Santana's car.

They drove around aimlessly, singing along to whatever song shuffle selected from Santana's iPod. Brittany was a master at making her girlfriend laugh with her silly expressions and strange dance moves. Eventually she began to sing each song in a different strange cartoon voice, which the brunette would have found annoying if it came from anyone else, but from Britt, it was hilarious. She relished the fact that no matter how bad everything else was, she could always count on this girl to save her from herself.

"Hey look, San!" Brittany exclaimed.

Santana peered through the window, attempting to find what was so exciting. "What?"

"A fortune teller!"

"Seriously?" Santana snorted. "Britt, that's all bogus. They just make up stuff."

The blond pouted. "But that's just the liars. Some of them are real. Please?"

"They're closed anyway. All the light is out. Besides, I can tell you the future."

"You're psychic?"

"No, but I don't need to be psychic to know you and me are going to get married one day and grow old together."

"With lots of kids and grandkids?" Brittany beamed.

"As long as I don't have to push anything out of me, sure."

Brittany stuck out her bottom lip. "But I want a little mini-Santana. She would be so cute!"

"While I can't deny that logic, seriously, you know I hate pain."

"I'll make it worth your while."

"You're bribing me with sex for a baby that won't be born for at least a decade?"

"Mhm," Brittany nodded.

"I feel cheap."

"Please San?"

"B, you do remember were only eighteen, right? We shouldn't even be thinking about this for at least five-to-ten years."

"You started it."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah you did. I wasn't going to ask the fortune teller about us. I already know we're going to be together. I was going to ask about Charity and Lord Tubbington. I think they broke up and that's why he started smoking again."

"Your cat isn't smoking, babe."

"You're just saying that because he interrupted our sexytimes last week and you don't care if he dies of cancer. I found a carton under his bed last week. There were only four cigarettes left!"

Santana laughed. "My mistake, let's get him to kitty rehab immediately. He's on the path to total destruction. He'll be doing drugs and making cat porn to pay the bills soon."

"That's a little harsh."

"Sorry, B. He's going to be fine. If you're worried, take him to a vet, not a fortune teller."

Brittany frowned but nodded. The music played through the silence, but unlike with others, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. Santana began singing along to the music again, soon joined by the blond, their voices harmonizing perfectly with the tune of _Americano_. Even though she could speak the language fluently, Brittany let Santana sing solo when the Spanish lines came on, simply because she loved hearing it. She could probably listen to Santana sing in Spanish all day and not get bored. But then, she could probably just stare at the girl and not get bored.

Santana sighed as she looked at the clock. "I guess I should get you home. Don't want you to miss dinner."

Brittany glanced over at the time, 6:47 PM. Her family usually ate around 7:00 PM, because her dad worked across town and that was the earliest they could be sure he would be home. They were only a couple of blocks from her house, so she wasn't worried about being late, but she didn't want to go home and leave Santana alone.

"You can come for dinner, if you want," she suggested as they pulled into her driveway.

Santana considered the offer carefully. Dealing with her parents seemed like the least appealing idea in the world, but she thought maybe if she went to dinner and spent some time around them, she could show them she's still the same person. Maybe they would understand that being gay and being honest about it had changed her life, but it hadn't changed her. That seemed unlikely. Brittany's family would at least be excited to see her; they always were. They were more like a family to her than her own. Still, she knew avoiding her parents might sound like a good idea, but she knew them. Spending time away would only allow them to get angrier, and if they knew she was with Brittany, that would only worsen the situation. Besides, she was really starting to feel the effects of only having a couple hours of sleep the night before.

"I'd love to, B, but I have to face them at some point," Santana sighed.

Brittany reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "You can come over or call me anytime, okay?"

Santana nodded. "I know."

Brittany climbed out of the car, swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"Britt," the brunette called, causing the girl to turn back. "I love you."

The blond smiled in return. "I love you too."

It was a short drive back to her own house, but in that time, the panic had started to seep its way back into her chest. Without Brittany there to comfort her, Santana felt lost again. She put back on her confident expression before walking back in the door. She couldn't show weakness. They might mistake it for uncertainty or a reason to send her to some Pray Away the Gay camp. She took a deep breath and opened the door, looking around for signs of life as she slipped inside.

Although the lights were on in the other room, Santana knew she still had a chance to make a break for her bedroom. She could lock herself in there again, she supposed, but didn't she come home to scope out the situation; to try and show them things didn't have to be different? Sliding off her shoes and kicking them to the side, she found her body moving for her, taking over from her brain. She wandered into the kitchen to greet her mami, who was hunched over the stove, tasting whatever soup was in the pot in front of her.

"Hi," Santana said as loudly as she could manage. Quiet as she was, the silence in the room told her that her mother had heard probably her and was actively choosing not to respond. "Hi," she tried again, anyway, louder this time. Still no reply. "Do you want help with anything?" she offered, trying a different approach.

"No."

"Are you sure? I could chop the onions or something."

"I'm sure."

"How was your day?" she asked, knowing full well that there were only two possible replies: a lecture, or silence. She received the latter. "Okay," Santana replied slowly. "I'll just go, then." She walked into the living room to see if her father was around, but the empty seats told her if he was home, he was probably in his office, and everyone knew better than to disturb Dr. Lopez when he was working.

Instead, she climbed the stairs to her room and flopped down on her bed. Her eyes closed on instinct and if it weren't for the pain shooting through her body, she probably would have fallen into a deep sleep immediately. She considered texting Brittany for distraction, but she didn't want to interrupt family time. Who else was there? Quinn and her were close, but she would know something was wrong and Santana really wasn't in the mood to spill her guts to anyone else. It was for that same reason that she avoided Mercedes and Tina, whom she may not have been as close with, but she knew they would have asked for details. Rachel was out because that would be the quickest way to alert absolutely everyone that something was wrong. She never spoke to the hobbit unless she had to, so the idea of starting now sounded pathetic. She may have apologized to Kurt, but she didn't particularly want to talk to him, either. She wanted a distraction, not a reminder of what she was going through. Puck would probably just ask if he could film her and Brittany. As she mentally went through her list of contacts, she realized no one seemed like a valid option, really. She sighed and put her phone down, staring at the ceiling.

Santana studied the patterns in the ceiling, remembering how Brittany used to do that. She would constantly find new shapes, animals, and faces. Santana had always thought it was silly, but as she focused now, she realized she could spot a duck, a fish, and three hearts. She began picking out cats and stars, telling herself little stories like her girlfriend used to do, instantly wishing she had taken the blond up on her offer. She tried to count the dots, but there were too many and she kept getting confused, so she gave up and went back to finding shapes.

Santana's concentration was broken by the sound of voices downstairs. She wondered if they would call her for dinner and if she should go if they didn't. She waited, but no call came, so she climbed off her bed and skipped quietly down the steps, listening to make sure she wasn't interrupting something serious. She heard the clanging of silverware as they dished out their food.

She smoothed out her hair and took a deep breath. She had never felt so out of place in her own house as she did in that moment. Should she even go in? Trying not to shake, Santana walked into the dining room. Neither of her parents made an effort to look up, let alone acknowledge her. Unsure of her decision, she took a seat across from her mami, noticing at least there was a place setting for her.

She scooped up some of the tomato soup into a bowl and took some bread. She wasn't hungry enough to eat any of the chicken or rice on the table. Now that she was with her parents, she wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible.

Nobody made an effort to speak. Santana wracked her brain for something she could tell them, but everything involved Brittany, and she thought it best not to bring her up just yet. She tried once to tell them about sectionals, but their lack of response caused her to stop short. She stared down at her food and ate in silence, wishing she could fade into the walls and disappear from everything.

She popped the last bit of bread into her mouth, fighting the urge to throw it up immediately. She took a swig of water before backing up her chair and picking up her dishes.

"Thank you, Mami," she stated politely, somewhat surprised that she was still capable of speaking. Again, neither of her parents responded, so she left, dropping the dishes into the sink before climbing back up to hide in her room. She picked up her phone, noticing a new text. It was Brittany, asking how everything was going. She typed a quick reply about how much everything sucked, looking around for something to do.

**Britt-Britt: **_come over? i'll cheer u up._

Santana didn't want to make things worse with her parents by leaving, but at the moment, she wasn't sure they could get worse. At least there had been no yelling, but it was almost worse living as if she was a ghost, so if they weren't going to acknowledge her, maybe she would just return the favor. They would probably be happy to be rid of her.

**San:** _ya, ok. be there in 10._

Packing her bag with some basic necessities, Santana was out of her room within a matter of minutes. Although part of her expected to be yelled at as she left, questioned about where she was going or who with or why on a school night, but nothing. She slipped out without a single ounce of caring coming from the two people she used to call her parents, not bothering to say goodbye.

Moments later, Santana was standing on the doorstep of the Pierce house. The house was big and yellow with bright white trim, giving off a cheery welcome, much like the people who resided inside. Her own house was just plain white, big and daunting. It seemed so cold in comparison.

She rang the bell and was greeted moments later by a pair of arms flinging around her.

"Jessie!" she laughed, feigning gasping for air. "I can't breathe!"

The young girl let go of her and smiled. "Hi!"

"Hi," she grinned, lighting up at the warmth of her reception. "How's it going kid?"

Jessie pouted at being called 'kid' now that she was almost ten years old, but she didn't let that ruin her mood. "Good," she sang. "I got a dance recital next week!" The girl idolized her older sister and did basically everything Brittany had, which was adorable most of the time, but sometimes a little annoying. In this case, though, it was the former. She didn't quite have the same natural grace, but she was undeniably talented. "You're going to come, right?"

"I'd love to, Jess. Just let me know when and where and I'll be there." Santana wasn't a big fan of kids, or people in general, but anyone who looked like Brittany was an instant exception to that rule.

"Santana, honey," Brittany's mom cooed as she entered, "I didn't know you were coming over tonight."

She winced. "Is that okay?"

Mrs. Pierce smiled and shrugged, reaching down to pick up a doll that Jessie had dropped hours before. "As long as you don't mind that the house is a mess, you're always welcome here."

Santana relaxed instantly.

"How are things?" the older woman asked, a concerned look evident across her face. "You know, at home. Britt told us your parents are having a hard time."

"I'm not sure they're having any kind of time. They're not talking to me," Santana admitted, trying her best to cover the crack in her voice.

Mrs. Pierce crossed over toward her and embraced her tightly. She didn't need to say anything, the simple action was enough to calm some of Santana's ever-present nerves as she returned the hug.

"Hey, Mom, did I hear the- Santana!" Brittany bounced over to her. It never ceased to amaze her how excited the blond became just from seeing her, or how many butterflies fluttered in her stomach from receiving such an enthusiastic reaction.

"Hey B," Santana grinned. She wanted to kiss her, but refrained, unsure how Brittany's mom and sister would react to such a display. She knew they were cool with it, but theory and practice were two very different things. "Long time, no see."

"What are you talking about, I just-" she stopped when she saw the look Santana was giving her. "Oh, I get it. Yeah, so long."

Santana laughed. "Come on, babe. Let's go study."

"No funny business. Door stays open," Mrs. Pierce instructed, looking pointedly at both of them, but there was a hint of of a laugh in her eyes when she saw the terror that was spread across the Latina's face.

"No, ma'am," Santana nodded. "I'll be a perfect gentlewoman."

Brittany rolled her eyes and led Santana up to her room, leaving the door open, but only cracked. "Are we actually going to study?" she whined, pulling pajamas out of her dresser.

Santana grabbed an oversized shirt from her bag and changed into it quickly. "You, missy, have a math test on Monday."

"Yeah, but that's Monday. That's like a whole weekend for studying."

Santana raised her eyebrow, plopping down onto the bed. "I was thinking if you study a little each day instead of all day on Sunday, that leaves more time for sweet lady kisses."

Brittany perked up, taking her place next to her girlfriend. "A kiss for every answer?" she suggested.

"Every correct answer."

The blond thought about this a moment. "Okay, deal."

"I know all your weaknesses," Santana grinned, opening up Brittany's textbook and pointing out what questions she should try. A pale face scrunched in disapproval at the plan, but her pen met the paper, anyway, as she concentrated on the problems before her. She wanted to get as many as possible correct. She wanted her sweet lady kisses.

The brunette was surprised that she was only called upon once to help. She secretly loved helping Brittany with anything; it was nice to feel needed. The rest of the time, she spent reading a short story they had been assigned in English called Bullet in the Brain. It was so depressing, and kind of lame, but she knew that kind of response wouldn't be tolerated by her teacher, so she tried her best to work up clever comments to give in class the next day. It was hard, though, with the pretty girl beside her who was so easy to stare at. She hadn't even noticed that an hour had passed without her jotting down more than one simple note.

"Done!" Brittany exclaimed proudly, handing over her answers to her girlfriend. Santana took the notebook to look it over.

"B, these are all correct!" Santana grinned. "I knew you were a genius!"

The blond beamed. "Sweet lady kisses now?"

Dark eyes travelled over to the door, biting her lip. Kissing wouldn't be so bad, would it? And the chances Brittany's mom would walk in were minimal, so she leaned closer. "Yeah, baby. Sweet lady kisses." She bit her lip, making eye contact with the girl only inches from her face.

They moved together, lips gently meeting each other. Their eyes fluttered closed. Santana felt Brittany's mouth open, tongue begging for entrance, which she gladly granted. Their bodies gravitated toward one another, legs intertwining. Santana slid her hand beneath her girlfriend's sweater, resting on the small of her back, while Brittany ran her fingers through thick dark hair. They pulled away only a few times for oxygen. Although there was certainly passion behind the kisses, there was something deeper, more romantic. There was no desperation or need to go further, just an expression of love and closeness.

When they broke apart, Santana smiled, blushing. She had never kissed like that before; not without it leading to sex. If the feelings behind it weren't so strong, she would have thought it was just because she was so tired that they didn't need to do anything more, but her heart was beating so hard and the butterflies in her stomach were so present that she couldn't deny there was much more to it. She didn't know anyone could achieve such ecstasy from kissing, but then, she supposed Brittany was the only one who could elicit such a reaction from her, and she had never given her the opportunity to be romantic before. For so long their relationship had been based on friends-with-benefits, and the idea of it being more was so scary, that it always shocked Santana to realize intimacy meant so much more than she had initially believed.

"What are you thinking about?" Brittany questioned.

"Nothing," Santana replied, trying to straighten out the look on her face so she didn't look so deep in concentration.

"Is it your parents?" Brittany asked, sadly. "Because things will get better with them."

"No, it's not them, but I'm not so sure. How can things get better if they won't even look at me?"

"Maybe they just need to get used to it."

"Get used to what? I'm still their daughter. This is why I didn't want to tell them."

Brittany rubbed her fingers gently up and down Santana's arm.

"I'd be lost without you," she admitted, moving to rest her head on Brittany's chest, allowing the warmth of the arms draped around her to comfort her.

"I'd be lost without you too. Literally. I wouldn't have found my way out of the sewers without you."

Santana chuckled, allowing her heavy eyelids to close as she wrapped her own arm tightly around the blond's waist. "The only sewers I want you lost in are mine," she whispered.

Brittany swatted her arm jokingly, but Santana just buried herself deeper into the embrace. Here, she felt safe. Here, she didn't have the panic. Here, she didn't have parents who refused to acknowledge her existence. Here, she didn't have classmates who hated her for loving. Here, she didn't have anything to worry about. She just had Brittany. Here, she had everything she needed.

"Goodnight San," Brittany cooed, placing a kiss atop her head.

"'Night B."

-O-O-O-

**A/N:** Okay, I admit the end there was kind of cliche, but I needed some Brittana fluff in my life. Plus, I kind of think that's exactly how she would feel. Your arguments are invalid. :P

**Reviews are love!**


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